


Side Effects Include

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Common Cold, Forced Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was:  Rimmer likes to pretend he has everything under control, and yet his status as a hologram removes any trace of control he might have, even over his own body. I would love to see a story where Rimmer loses control of himself ( think channeling the crew in Queeg, the Holovirus in Quarantine, running out of power in Demons & Angels, the system crash in Trojan, etc) and has to deal with the consequences. Humour is fine, but angsty would be preferred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side Effects Include

"Aachooo-oohhh."

Lister stopped short as he saw Rimmer huddled down in the bunk, looking wretched and groaning softly.

"What's up with you, guy?" he asked as he turned a chair around and straddled it. "You don't sound so good."

Rimmer blew his nose with a great _honk_ then sniffled a few times. "Ib god a code."

It was clear to Lister that Rimmer was sick; he'd heard him coughing and moaning most of the night last night. He felt a smidge vindictive after the smeg that Rimmer put him through last week, so settled back to enjoy taunting his roommate. "Eh?" he asked, pretending to not understand 'sick speak'.

Rimmer glared at him from beneath the covers, but it was a weak attempt that failed to live up to Rimmer's normal hostile levels. "Ib sick. Ib god a holovirus."

 _That_ he wasn't expecting. Lister looked around furtively, expecting a gingham dress to materialize. "Smeg, are we going to see that crazed penguin again? Should I get Kryten to run a virus scan?"

Rimmer's glare intensified. "No, you nimwit; a _code_. A normal code."

He was only mildly relieved at Rimmer's words. After all, wasn't the sick one the last to know they were insane? "So…you're not going to go homicidal on us again?" he asked tentatively.

Rimmer sneezed, then immediately groaned and curled into a tighter ball on the bed.

Lister's humour faded and he leaned forward anxiously. "Are you okay, Rimmer? You look flushed. Do you need something?"

The hologram turned his head into the pillow, but Lister could understand him just fine. "I need quiet ad rest. Can you please leab me alone to die again id peace?"

Feeling like a heel for finding enjoyment in Rimmer's suffering, he stood up from the chair and nodded. "Sure thing. Let Kryten or me know if you need anything, all right?"

Rimmer closed his eyes and nodded, but said nothing further. Lister slipped out of their quarters, wondering where he should hole up for the next few days.

=-=-=-=-=

Rimmer listened to Lister leave, then waited a few more minutes before opening his eyes. He was once again alone, which was preferable in his state. Colds were extremely rare for holograms. They were a form of holovirus, the baby step-child of the mutation that had destroyed Doctor Lanstrom and nearly killed him. He was in no danger of donning a dress or sticking his hand up the bum of a bird puppet, but he _was_ ashamed and despondent.

What he didn't tell Lister; what he doubted anyone knew about holograms, was how colds affected them. He certainly hadn't known until he'd started sneezing. He didn't get a fever or the chills. The stuffy head and cough were normal for any cold, but whenever he felt a sneeze building, a rush of arousal throbbed through his penis, making him hard. A sneezing fit late last night had left him drained, his limp penis aching from the repeated orgasms.

Thank smeg Lister had slept through it; he didn't think he could take the mocking abuse. He felt bad enough without Lister adding to his unseemly predicament. He just needed the damned cold to go away, so he could put this behind him.

Unfortunately for him, Lister was soft hearted and liked to take care of injured birds, lost pets and sick holograms. Just when he was drifting to sleep, Lister clomped into their quarters and made a racket dropping something onto the table. He opened one bleary eye and saw a steaming bowl next to a plate of what looked like toast and a glass of orange juice. He groaned despite not sneezing.

Lister shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I couldn't just sit by and let you be sick all alone without a little something to make it better."

Rimmer slammed his eyes shut and buried his face in the pillow, as an image of just how Lister could make it better popped into his mind. That mouth had to be good for something other than annoying him. "Yes, you can. Go away, Lister," he muttered pitifully.

He heard shuffling and opened his eyes to see Lister knelt by his bedside. In spite of everything, his heart lifted the tiniest bit at Lister's concern. A cool, dry hand covered his forehead and he sighed, even though he didn't feel feverish. It was nice to be touched. It was therefore twice as hard for him to burst Lister's nursemaid bubble. "Lister, I'm a hologram; plowing me with food won't help me get well sooner."

The hand moved from his forehead to his cheek, something soft and intimate shining from Lister's eyes. "Comfort food isn't about making you well; it's about making you feel better. This will warm you and let you know that you're lo— that you'll be okay," he amended hastily, and Rimmer wondered what he'd meant to say.

He searched Lister's face, looking for a sign that this was a set up to some horrible prank or a joke he wasn't in on. When all he found was fondness mixed with something he couldn't identify, he grew nervous. "Why are you being nice to me? I'm a git," he said in a small voice. "No one likes me, least of all you."

Lister's mouth curved in a smile. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I don't care," he murmured, stroking Rimmer's hair back from his forehead. "And who says I don't like you?"

Rimmer blinked rapidly, wondering if he was hallucinating. Maybe the cold had mutated after all, and he'd be fitting himself for a wig and army boots in short order. "You do, all the time." He was disoriented and confused, and then he felt the horrible tingle start: he was about to sneeze. Panicked, he ordered, "Get out. Now."

Lister looked stricken. "What? I don't –"

Rimmer tried to hold it back, but the sneeze rushed up his spine and filled his cock painfully fast, so fast that he had no time to warn Lister before he was moaning and spurting into his sheets. As he caught his breath, he stared down at the unmistakable damp spot and felt his face burn with embarrassment. "Just leave," he said quietly, not daring to move, even to cover up his shame. He closed his eyes. "Please."

Lister was quiet, in what Rimmer assumed was shock and disgust, but finally he heard his roommate stand up. "I'll leave you alone for now, but Rimmer, something is clearly wrong and you're trying to hide it. Whatever it is, I promise I won't laugh or think you're a freak."

He didn't say anything; he couldn't, not with the lump in his throat and the unfamiliar burn of tears rushing to fill his eyes. He stayed like that until he heard Lister leave, then let the humiliated tears silently fall.

=-=-=-=-=

When Rimmer next woke up, it was to Lister slouched in a chair by his bedside, watching him. "Are you here to gloat?" he snapped, out-of-sorts and tired. He'd slept fitfully, worried that Lister would sneak in and do something horrible to him in the middle of the night.

Lister shook his head sadly. "I'm here to help you, if you'll let me. I asked Kryten about—"

He sat up in bed, forgetting his embarrassment in the face of irate anger. "You talked to Kryten about me? How dare you go behind my back!"

Lister calmly continued, "Asked Kryten about hologram colds, and he said that each hologram exhibits a different reaction. Whatever you're experiencing, it's unique to you."

He flopped back to the mattress with a pained chuckle, covering his face with his hands. "Of course it is. Just let me to my freakishness, would you? I don’t want an audience to my clearly defective projection."

"Hey. _Hey_ ," Lister called softly, removing one of Rimmer's hands from his face and holding it between his warm palms. "This is no different than my hallucinations coming to life when I had pneumonia, all right? It's a side effect of your cold and you have nothing to be ashamed about."

He looked at his hand between Lister's, then up at Lister's face. Rimmer couldn't read his expression, so he resorted to the only way he knew how to react in foreign situations. He pulled his hand back, rolled over and ignored Lister until he gave up and left their quarters, but not before saying, "I'll be back later to see if you're feeling better."

Rimmer felt like smeg, and not because of the cold.

=-=-=-=-=

This time when Lister presented him with a mug of tea, he accepted it silently. He hadn't sneezed in three hours; maybe the cold had run its course. As he sipped the hot liquid, it warmed his insides and he let out a contented sigh. He was grateful that Lister seemed to not want to talk, as he didn't know what to say to him, anyway. It was nice to sit and not have to talk, just share the company of another presence in the room.

Rimmer hadn't known such a thing existed. He'd been locked in his room in absolute isolation, or been forced to sit on the far corner of the couch when company would come, making polite small talk or else face the wrath of his mother once it was just family again.

His sigh this time must have signaled something, because Lister broke the quiet to asked, "What are you thinking about?"

He shook his head, hating that he'd been the cause of shattering the illusion. "It's not important."

Lister took a breath as if to steady himself, then shocked Rimmer by saying, "What you think and say does matter, Rimmer. I know we don't get on and I can be a right bastard, but I want you to know that I'm trying to change. I want to respect you, but you need to trust that I'm not out to hurt you." Lister fiddled with the hem of his jacket before continuing when Rimmer couldn't think of what to say. "I know you had a smeggy childhood, smeggy brothers and even smeggier parents, but we've all had something in our past that changes who we were supposed to be. We've both seen what we could have been if everything worked out the way we wanted, but they didn't, so this is who we're stuck with. You and me; Lister and Rimmer."

The tea was cooling, but Rimmer felt himself warming from the inside out. It was an odd sort of feeling – warmth and glowy and happy. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and to his horror, he heard himself announce, "I've had 57 orgasms in the past three days."

He managed not to spill the tea as he slapped his free hand over his mouth, wondering where the smeg that had come from.

He watched in dread and horror as Lister's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "You've…what?"

Too deep into the truth to lie now, Rimmer met Lister's gaze defiantly. "Whenever I sneeze, I come. I had a sneezing fit the other night and nearly died from exhaustion. Go on, make fun of me. I dare you."

Lister's mouth closed and opened a few times, but he didn't utter a sound. Finally, he repeated faintly, "Fifty seven in three days?"

His eyes narrowed as it seemed Lister wasn't entirely there. "That's an estimate; I was in too much pain to care much past forty."

That seemed to snap Lister out of it. "Pain? What the smeg's been happening to you, Rimmer?"

His face felt hot as he attempted to describe what he'd been experiencing. "You know that tickle you get before you sneeze?" He didn't wait for Lister's affirmative nod. "In the time between feeling that tickle and actually sneezing, my dick hardens and an orgasm is wrung out of me."

Lister's hand immediately went to cover his own penis as he winced in sympathy. "That's – absolutely horrible, Rimmer. How could you stand it? I thought six times in one night was damn impressive."

Lise Yates. Rimmer hadn't thought about her much over the years, but he knew what it should feel like to make love to her six times in one night. Damn Lister and his thoughtless gifts – he could have happily lived his life and death without knowing the heartache of losing someone he loved. "That was impressive," he agreed dryly, "But this isn't anything like making love. This is just a rapid filling and release, over and over again. No touching, no kissing, no foreplay. Excruciating agony is too light a term for what I experienced."

Lister kept his mouth shut and Rimmer thought for sure he'd finally scared the bastard off. Eventually came the quiet reply, "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it's been like."

He snorted. "I don't suppose you could. You're not a hologram."

Lister shook his head. "That's not what I meant. It's almost clinical, isn't it? Just the raw act without any of the fun bits to get you there."

He shifted uncomfortably and looked anywhere but at Lister. "I feel used," he admitted. "Tired and used."

"Would you –" Lister broke off and started again. "When you're better, would it be okay if I filled in the missing bits of the past few days?"

He studied Lister's face, trying to decide if the nervous, hopeful expression was sincere or another way that Lister could pull the smeg on him. "What are you suggesting, Lister?" he asked warily, wanting to draw out Lister's real intentions.

Lister shifted nervously in his chair. "You've had your fill of the finale, right? And you've missed out on the fun bits leading up to it. I'm offering to…oh, smeg it."

Before Rimmer could prepare himself, Lister was kissing him, and then he wasn't. He blinked in a daze, mouth slightly open as Lister returned to his chair. He licked his lips, tasting nicotine and something sweet, something that could become addictive. "Is there –" he froze as Lister stared at him expectantly; eagerly, even. Lister _wanted_ this? He licked his lips again. "Is there a way to have the fun bits without me getting hard? I don't think my dick could take it, honestly."

Lister chewed on his lower lip in concentration. "Won't know unless we try. Are you willing to try, Rimmer?"

There was so much more behind those simple words that just allowing Lister to touch him. There was more than the next few days, or weeks, or months. Even with his no-relationship-experience naiveté, he heard the underlying question. He gave it a proper think, weighing the pros and cons of sleeping with Lister. "Yes," he answered, turning his hand palm-side up on the covers.

He expected a huge smile to split Lister's face in two, but the gentle upturn of his lips caused Rimmer's heart to skip a beat. He let out a shaky breath as Lister's hand closed over his and squeezed.


End file.
